Before arriving on Rabi Island, we knew very little about the Banaban people. We were tipped by a fellow sailor about the interesting story behind this island and its people, and read the coverage in the New Zealand Geographic magazine before arriving in Catherine’s Bay on the southern side of the island.
At first glance, Rabi feels unmistakably Fijian. But its history is anything but ordinary. The people living in the island’s four villages are not indigenous to Rabi. They are Banabans, whose homeland, Banaba Island (also called Ocean Island) nearly 500 kilometres away in present-day Kiribati, was largely destroyed by decades of phosphate mining. After the Second World War, thousands were relocated here, where they rebuilt their communities while holding on to a culture, identity and history rooted in another island.
Today, there are about 5,000 people living on the island, mostly split between four villages. The names of the villages are the same as the villages they left behind on Banaban. We were anchored by Buakonikai village, which is the most isolated and southern village on the island.
Rabi itself was bought for the Banabans in 1942 for £25,000, paid from the Banaban Fund, established by the British colonial authorities. This was money earned from phosphate royalties from their own island. The remaining funds were later managed through the Rabi Island Council and used to support the community and development of the island.
Today, most Banabans on Rabi sustain themselves through a mix of subsistence farming and fishing, with copra providing one of the few sources of cash income. So, the Banabans effectively paid for the island they were relocated to, using money generated from the mining that had made their original home largely uninhabitable.
The money from Banaba continues to play an important role on Rabi, but its management has become controversial. The Banaban Trust Fund was established with a $10 million in compensation from the phosphate mining, with the capital protected and the income from its investments intended to support the Banaban community.
Today, however, questions are being raised about how the money has been managed and accounted for. A dispute has reached Fiji’s High Court, where community groups have called for greater transparency, while court-ordered audit records are reportedly still outstanding. Adding to the controversy are proposals to once again extract resources from Banaba – the very island whose destruction forced the Banabans to Rabi in the first place. Those plans have met strong opposition and, according to the Rabi Administration, have currently been put on hold.
Despite a lot of controversy going on, and few job opportunities available on the island, we witnessed the same warm welcome we have experienced all over in Fiji. The Banabans are a little more timid than the Fijians, but the kids were equally happy and curious to meet us like everywhere else we go. The kindergarten teacher invited us to visit them one morning.
We sat down with the eight kids, and told them about where we were from, and showed them winter pictures from Norway. They had lots of questions about snow, and how cold it is in Norway. We tried to answer as best we could, while the teacher translated. The Banabans speak Gilbertese, which is the language spoken in Kiribati.
We left the super cute kids and went on a bicycle ride along the island’s coast. As we cycled between the villages, talked with locals and learned more about their past, it became clear that a visit to Rabi is about much more than another beautiful island in Fiji. It is a place where the legacy of colonialism is still part of everyday life, and where an entire people continue to preserve the identity of a homeland they were forced to leave behind.
The second village we came to, about an hour’s bike ride from Buakonikai, was Tabiang. This village is the home to the island’s high school and local airstrip. However, there are no regularly scheduled commercial flights arriving at the airport, so the way to travel to the island is via boat from the neighboring island, Vanua Levu.
After hiding from the rain, we biked for another 30 minutes to the third village, Uma. It is located on the coastal strip just south of the main village on the island, Tabwewa. We experienced some heavy rain just as we got into town, and stopped by a small shop. We were lucky to find cold soda there, and we hung out with the shop keeper, Millie, and her friend Josephine for quite some time, before the rain stopped and allowed us to continue our journey.
After a short bike of 15 minutes from Uma village, we reached Tabwewa, which is the island’s administrative hub, housing the hospital, post office, and wharf.
We stayed in the main village through the school’s lunch break, and biked on when the kids went back to class. We reached the end of the road, and were ready to turn around, but then the captain discovered he had a flat tire…
Luckily, Josephine, the friend of the shopkeeper we got to know in Uma village, was a self proclaimed taxi driver. We had already mentioned to her that we might required her services returning to Buakoikai village, if the rain did not stop. And, the bike ride was a tad longer and the road not as flat as we had reckoned with.
We were so happy when Josephine turned up out of the blue, and folded our bikes into her car. Josephine was talkative, and shared that she is an educated nurse, and that she is waiting to get employed in Australia. She is married, and her husband already lives there and works as a mechanic. She is at home to care for her aging parents, while waiting for a job opportunity.
She uses her car for taxi service, and shared with us how she got her license. As Rabi is a private island, the Banabans govern it themselves. Getting a driver’s permit requires you to pay 5 Fijian dollars (about 2 Euros), and then you get your receipt that you paid the fee, and that is your license. As it is not possible to drive any faster than 30 km/h on the island roads, there are not many accidents.
Back on the wharf in Buakonikai, we stopped by the fish store, where we had gotten to know a super chatty and friendly man. He operates the fish store, which is drive on a community basis. He told us they had just captured an octopus that morning, which we ended up buying.
We left Rabi Island having learned one of the most remarkable stories in the Pacific. The Banabans we met may not have much, but they welcomed us with a warmth and generosity that stayed with us long after we left. After everything this community has been through, it is hard not to feel they deserve a more secure future. Returning to Banaba is still being discussed, but after more than 80 years away, and with much of the island devastated by mining, it is difficult to imagine what going back would really look like.
Talking to some of the young people on Rabi, their eyes seemed to be looking in another direction altogether. For them, the future was more likely to be in Fiji or Australia than on Banaba. We can only hope the current conflicts are resolved in a way that finally gives the Banaban people a fair say in what happens next.
